


On the Job (Or Not?)

by luvsanime02



Series: Mandatory Fun Day Fics [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - No Superheroes, Humor, M/M, Mandatory Fun Day, Popsicles, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02
Summary: Clint enjoys his job, and he doesn't want another infamous assassin showing up and ruining his life, thanks. Unless the guy is really hot, of course.





	On the Job (Or Not?)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the May 17th Winterhawk Mandatory Fun Day prompt found here: https://mandatoryfunday.tumblr.com/post/184845900363/okay-winterhawklings-this-week-lets-think-frozen.

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.

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**On the Job (Or Not?)** by luvsanime02

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Clint Barton tends to make a killing (though not literally, of course) during the hottest days of summer. Which only makes sense, really. When else would people come outside in droves for a popsicle? Not that Clint really has customers waiting around for him before he arrives.

No, people seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to cold treats being offered on a hot day, and so he barely has time to bike over to one of his spots and set down the kickstand before the first people show up. Regulars, mostly. New people only come over curiously after a line has already began to form.

Today is scorching. Clint is sweating as he bikes over to one of his usual corners, thankfully in the shade, and he promptly grabs a popsicle out of the freezer attached to the front of his bike and pops the treat into his mouth. Mm, nice. And he’s advertising at the same time. It’s always preferable when he can multitask.

Clint spends the next few hours passing out gourmet popsicles and chatting with people. Most of them are complaining about the heat, which is expected, even if the topic gets rather boring after the first two customers. Still, he can’t blame someone for observing social niceties. Clint quips back with the best of them, hears eleven bad puns that he forces himself to ignore and not start a pun war over, and all-in-all, it’s a pretty good afternoon for Clint.

It’s one of the easiest jobs in the world, honestly. Certainly one of the easiest that Clint’s ever had to do. Though, maybe he’s not a good indicator of someone’s normal job experiences. Clint’s jobs have tended more towards spy work and assassinations, and pick-pocketing in his youth. Definitely not your average resume. Still, riding around on a bike and selling popsicles is good exercise, gets Clint outside more often - so that Natasha will stop worrying about his lack of vitamin D - and lets Clint engage in some harmless conversations with strangers.

He really likes this job. It gets him up in the mornings. Well, the job and Lucky - his dog. It’s a reason to buy groceries and pay his bills and sometimes clean parts of his apartment, and really, Clint hasn’t been doing too badly for himself lately.

So, of course, dark and broody has to come along and ruin everything.

Okay, that’s melodramatic. Clint’s allowed to be dramatic inside his own mind. Still, Clint’s not really sure how to take it when the world’s most infamous assassin walks up to his popsicle stand.

They’ve never even met before. Clint definitely would have remembered those shoulders, those full lips, and those gorgeous eyes. Clint doesn’t recognize him at first, actually. Oh, he registers that the guy is dangerous. Hard not to when he screams murder with every step that he takes.

Clint tends to go the pleasant route. Let people see him smile and hear him chatter endlessly, and then they’ll completely underestimate him. Think of Clint as someone harmless. This guy, though, doesn’t bother to hide what he is as he stalks forward. People instinctively get out of his way, desperate not to be noticed by him, even if they don’t exactly understand why.

It’s only when the guy orders his popsicle and accepts the treat with a _metal arm_ that Clint realizes who he is exactly, and it takes all of Clint’s willpower and training not to freeze (ha!) in disbelief.

The Winter Soldier. The only assassin on the planet that can give Clint a run for his money in the sniper department. Here, standing in front of Clint and eating his popsicle and looking way too attractive, in Clint’s opinion.

Also, he’s not moving away, and he’s scaring off Clint’s other customers. Clint slaps a friendly smile on his face. “Something else I can get for you, stranger?” he asks calmly.

Please don’t be here to kill me, Clint thinks. Please, please don’t be here to kill me. Sure, I’ve got a bow and a quiver of arrows under this cart, and I might be able to get away without being killed, but this is the only really good thing I’ve got going in my life right now. Please don’t be here to kill me, because that would really suck.

“I wouldn’t mind a date,” the guy says quietly. The Winter Soldier. Standing in front of Clint and asking him out on a date. Is this a code? Is he saying that he’s going to wait and kill Clint later, after he’s done with his job for the day? That’d be awfully nice of him.

The Winter Soldier is not known for being nice to his targets. Or for waiting.

Clint’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit. Maybe this guy doesn’t know who Clint is? No, he realizes an instant later. There’s a faint smirk appearing on that pretty face. He definitely knows, and he’s enjoying Clint’s discomfort. Well, two can play at that game.

“I don’t usually date guys whose names I don’t even know,” he says. “ _M_ _y_ name’s Clint Barton.” He even holds out his hand. Which is either the bravest or the stupidest thing Clint’s done this week. So far. It is only Tuesday.

Of course, the Winter Soldier has to know Clint’s name already if he’s standing there. He wouldn’t have ever approached someone of Clint’s reputation without doing some basic research first, and Clint is working this job under his real name.

There. Now the guy has two choices - to give out his name in return, or to walk away without messing with Clint any longer. Either way, he wins.

The smirk becomes a grin, and a dimple appears in the guy’s cheek, and wow, for a world-renown assassin, he’s very hot. How unfair. Not that Clint can talk, but still.

“Bucky Barnes,” he replies easily, and he even shakes Clint’s hand.

Huh. That sounds… suspiciously like a real name. No one would use the name ‘Bucky’ as a cover. It’s too memorable. Did the Winter Soldier really just give Clint his real name? Okay, then. That deserves a reward.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” he says. “I’ll be done working in an hour, and then I’ve got to take the bike back to the shop. Want to grab something to eat after?” Because it’s almost approaching dinnertime now, and the crowds tend to thin out as people leave in search of something more nourishing than a frozen treat to eat.

Clint’s curious about what Bucky’s response will be. Is he going to ask for Clint’s number, in order to catch up with him later? Is he going to stand around and wait for Clint’s job to be over? Is he going to stalk Clint back to the shop?

Clint’s still not sure whether or not Bucky’s been sent to kill him, but. Well. Clint lives dangerously, sometimes. Recklessly, Natasha would say. She’s going to be furious later that Clint didn’t call her the second he came into contact with the Winter Soldier, but Clint wants to find out where this is going first.

“Sure,” Bucky replies. “I’ll meet you at the shop later.”

Which means he either already knows where it is, or he’s going to research the location right now. Either way, looks like Clint’s got a date with the Winter Soldier tonight. And to think, he’d thought that this evening was going to be boring. Watching Bucky strut away from Clint’s popsicle stand, he knows that, however this night ends, ‘boring’ will be the least accurate description ever.

And the guy has a great ass, Clint notices.  Definitely worth possibly being set up or targeted by another assassin. Clint whistles cheerfully through the rest of his work shift, highly looking forward to whatever happens next.


End file.
